Nothing Blue
by Windfall My Way
Summary: 'It began with dreams. Then the shadows came to life and students started disappearing. There's no escape, Hogwarts is a prison. My prison. I know I have to save it, before everyone is gone... but how, when I don't even know where I really am?'


"Nothing Blue"

A Tale Spun by 'Windfall My Way'

(Inspired by Silent Hill 3 and Primal)

**Synopsis:** 'It began with dreams. Then suddenly the shadows came to life and students were disappearing. There's no escape, and Hogwarts is a prison. My Prison. I know I have to save it, before everyone is gone… but how can I, when I don't even know where I really am?' 

It's Harry Potter's seventh year, and all he wants is some semblance of normalcy. But then he begins to lose himself in dreams, not knowing if they are real or not. And every time he wakes, another student is gone. 

Escape is no option, and Hogwarts becomes a prison. Between these nightmarish flashes and disappearing students, Harry has to hold onto his sanity while trying to escape this hellish playground… before it's too late.

_"Remember me, Harry, and your true self, as well."_

**Rated:** R, because of all the bloody gore and violence. Other reasons may join this one later in the fic.

**Category: **Horror/suspense (if I can pull it off), most likely completely AU, and since I haven't been bothered to finish reading book five yet, there'll most likely be mistakes in the general universe of Potter. Forgive me! Blame school!

**Pre-fic Notes:** Hi, I'm Troy Macleur. You may remember me from such fics as—oh, wait, wrong person. I'm Just A Bit Potty, under a new name! More morbid, this time, since my other name's a bit silly, don'tcha think? But I'll still be using that to finish my other fic, 'A Wet Tale'. And I WILL finish it, I promise! But after several hopeless attempts at trying to write the next chapter after a very stressful holiday, I have nothing I'm willing to put up. So… until I figure out a way to make this 'Adventure' class work… I'm starting this new fic for relaxation. Completely different to anything else I've written – this time it's something akin to horror, and I'll try to keep it that way. I actually started it a while ago, but gave it up before posting it…. Now it's reworked and hopefully better. Enjoy, eh?

**Warnings/Disclaimer (READ, PLEASE. FLAMERS WILL BE EATEN. YUMMY!!!): **If any of you have played the games 'Silent Hill 3' and 'Primal' (both on PS2), then you might recognize some themes in this fic. After playing them both a few times over and rather scaring myself sh*tl*ss in SH3, I really had to get this out of my system. So, my point is, the future/past concept and the bloody gore etc. is from SH3. If you're squeamish then you'd better stay away. I'm not going to go into much detail (well… maybe, depends on my mood), because I get a bit queasy myself sometimes, but BE WARNED. Some of it might not be pretty! Of course, because I am who I am, there will most likely be a bit of romance ^_~. I can't help myself. Of what kind or between who, I don't know. That's all the warnings I can give for now, I suppose. Oh, and a bit of swearing.

Finally, I don't own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling does, clever girl!). Nor do I own Silent Hill 3 (I think KONAMI has that honor), and I also do not own Primal, but I forget who does. Ah, if only I did… can you imagine how rich we'd all be if we actually owned the things we wrote fan-fiction about? (And I'm not just talking about money… I mean, I'd be the richest girl in the world if I owned Orlando Bloom as Legolas, eh?).

If I've forgotten to mention anything before I start… I blame the T.V., as it's very distracting, especially because it's a really freaky show. Eek! 

"…" = Speech/song.

'…' = Thought.

The Song at the beginning is 'You're Not Here' by Akira Yamaoka, from the SH3 soundtrack. I don't own that song either. :(

Any mistakes, feel free to point them out to me! I make them all the time!

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

**~Prologue: Memories of the Future~**

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

The club was alive that night. Who cared at all of life outside the throbbing pulse of music pumping into the disco-lit room? Not a soul in the joint gave a flying fuck about anyone else. Not a one ever dreamed they'd soon be dead.

I certainly didn't. Not as I gripped the microphone in one hand and trailed the other down my thigh, glaring out the sea of bobbing heads and whispered my song…

_"Blue skies to forever,_

_Green grass blows in the wind, dancing._

_It would be a much better sight with you, with me."_

I closed my eyes and threw myself into the driving beat – pretending I was there… that I didn't exist. I didn't want to exist. I remember wishing to myself then, _'Make it all go away. Make it stop.'_

 Maybe it was my fault then, after all.

_"If you hadn't met me, I'd be fine on my own baby._

_Never felt so lonely, then you came along."_

I'd sung this song a hundred times before and nothing was new. Not even the faces melting together in one big, undulating blur. But it was as the guitarist to my right – Alice – skidded into a spectacular riff, that by pure chance, my eyes slid open and into my gaze wandered … darkness.

_"So no what do I do? I'm strung out,_

_Addicted to you._

_My body aches now that you're gone,_

_My supply fell through."_

It slithered around the bodies invisibly. Nobody glanced up from his or her head bagging. 

Not even when the first person screamed.

_"You gladly gave me everything you had and more,_

_You craved my happiness."_

Even as I squeezed my microphone until my knuckles whitened, I could only watch numbly as that first person stiffened mid-jump then slid flaccidly to the floor, a pool of crimson haloing her fallen form.

From then on it was all out massacre.

And still I didn't stop – my hollow voice echoing over the bloodied room.

_"When you made me feel joy it made you smile,_

_But now I feel your stress."_

Bodies crumpled to the floor. Blood was slowly flooding the dance floor. I should have been disturbed. I should have been throwing up, as the drummer behind me was doing. Or maybe simply quaking in terror, like Alice beside me, as the formless fiend floated over the slippery carpet of piled bodies. Yet all I could do was continue my song, bound by the soulless eyes of that obscure entity.

I knew I wouldn't die that day… No.

But later on, I'd wish that I had.

_"Love was never meant to be such a crazy affair, no –_

_And who has time for tears?"_

Darkness stretched out its cold hand. Touched by death as well, Alice crumpled to the slick, bloodstained stage. One-by-one, so did the other band members.

Now I was alone. And … I'd _never felt so lonely_… Intimately close to the star of children's nightmares.

"Never thought I'd sit around and cry for your love…" 

Tears slid over my lashes. I felt my throat constricted. Warmth left my body as Darkness sidled close to me. 

'Please…' 

I fell into its arms.

_"'Till now."_

Silence.

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

**First Chapter: Can You Hear Them Laughing?**

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

Harry Potter's eyes snapped open to greet the pitch darkness of his spacious dorm room, his breath leaving him in a hoarse rush. The bed-sheets sighed under his weight as he hefted himself upright, frantically searching the gloom for the source of his unease. His chest heaved.

What… what was that? It had been so real… Was it Voldemort?

A shaking hand flew to his scar – but no… it didn't hurt at all. Besides… how could it have been Voldemort? He was destroyed, by Harry's own wand. He was gone for good, wasn't he? 

What could it have been, then? 

'Whatever it was, it was bloody disturbing…I won't be able to get back to sleep after that.'

Scrunching his nose in annoyance, he slid over the side of his ruffled bed until his feet brushed the floor and reached for his glasses… they were nearby, somewhere. Ah, there! His fingers slid around the cold metal—"Argh!"

A gasp was torn from his throat as pain jolted his arm. Reeling in shock, he scuttled backwards over his bed, clutching his arm to his chest. Eyes wide, he stared at the spectacles he'd worn for years, transfixed as the shadows twisted and played over the innocent eyewear… almost… from within the glass itself…

Then the moon peeked from behind a fleecy cloud and silver light splashed the room.

Was it his imagination or … did the shadows just hiss and recoil from the flooding light.

Strange. 

He _definitely_ couldn't sleep now. Not when his glasses were biting him in the middle of the night.

Sighing, he edged his way to the other side of the bed, glancing at his closest dorm-mate, and best friend, a softly snoring Ronald Weasley. The fiery redhead was lost in dreams that were no doubt as peaceful as his were horrific.

Still left with a feeling of slimy unclean from his blood-drenched dream, Harry slid from his bed to where his school cloak was still stuffed in his trunk, dug it out from the mess of clothes, and slipped it around his slim shoulders. He skated a hand through his ragged hair, smoothing it back, and disappeared down the stairs.

Perhaps he could find sleep in front of the fire.

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

The only sleep Harry found that night, was the sleep others were enjoying, as he himself sat curled up in one of the plush chairs in the common room.

Pacing back and forth hadn't helped.

Trying to forget hadn't helped.

Splashing ice-cold water on his face hadn't helped.

Nothing could push the nightmarish visions of death from his mind. Worse than the terror and pain that clung to him after nightmares of Voldemort. He'd thought those were long gone. He'd thought his nights of waking a trembling, terrified heap in a sweat-soaked bed… he'd thought… they were gone. 

But then, this was different, wasn't it? It hadn't felt like him… no, it hadn't felt like him at all. It was almost like… he was someone else. That couldn't be true though, could it? Even in those long-lost dreams of Voldemort – he'd at least been himself, the silent, invisible observer.

A hand rose to smooth his crinkled brow, and try and ease away the headache pounding behind his eyes. No use… why couldn't he escape?

Was he never to achieve normality?

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

"Hey, Harry, where were you this morning?"

The raven-haired boy threw a glance over a shoulder and mustered up a smile as he saw who was thumping down the stairs.

"Hi, Ron."

The sunny redhead plopped down in the space beside him. It was still early on a clear, crisp Tuesday morning. Harry and Ron had made it a habit to wake up earlier in the morning than most of the others and talk, before they had a chance to get interrupted. It was more Harry's idea than Ron's – out of fear of drifting apart when they left school. Neither of them hardly had any time to talk anymore – each was following their own path.  It was they're seventh year now, and… who knew what would happen after they were announced 'graduated'. Harry didn't want to lose his first best friend.

"So, where were you, mate? I wanted to talk to you about… y'know… Hermione."

Harry couldn't help but grin at his friend; after all these years he still hadn't mustered up the courage to ask intellectual witch, Hermione Granger, on a simple date. The fact that she was currently enamored with a somewhat-matured Neville Longbottom, didn't help matters. And when Harry had questioned her on the matter, she'd simply said, "I'm tired of waiting around for Ron. I can't be first in _everything_, and Neville's actually really… sweet."

And so when Neville hadn't finally realized why Hermione was staring at him so often from under her lashes, he'd gathered his hidden Gryffindor courage and asked her out. She'd obviously said yes, and in a heartbroken Ron's words, "It's history."

'Love was never meant to be such a crazy affair…'

Harry never could hold back a smile when he thought of his friends; they were the one light in his life that kept him going.

But even now that light was fading.

It had been flickering slowly ever since… Sirius…

"Sorry, Ron… I had the strangest dream – couldn't sleep."

"Yeah? What was it about?"

Harry's lips curled into a morbid smile, "Nothing important, it just freaked me out."

"Huh. It wasn't about—"

"No, Voldemort's long gone, you know that."

"Just checking… Hey, Harry, where are your glasses?"

"Oh…" Harry felt around his eyes lightly – no wonder Ron and the common room were just colorful blurs. He didn't want to admit it… but he was too terrified to even touch the 'innocuous' bifocals. Pain in his fingers was bad enough – best not to be shocked blind. "I must have left them next to my bed. I'll… I'll go get them."

Ron gave him a funny look. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall, then?"

"Sure."

As his friend waved and left, Harry himself made himself rise from his comfortable seat and pushed his way up the stairs; the rest of Gryffindor was now awake and tumbling down the stairs to get to breakfast.

"Better hurry up, Harry! I heard the house elves are making a special treat for the Seventh Years to celebrate their last year. Something about surviving You-Know-Who," shouted Seamus excitedly as he barged passed the pajama-clad boy.

Harry paused at the top of the stairs and raised his eyebrows at his friend, "…Cool. See you there," then disappeared into his dorm room.

'Well… Good luck, Harry,' he prepped himself in his mind. Then chuckled at his foolishness – it was probably his imagination, anyway. Vaguely amused at himself, he fumbled his way around the room from pure muscle memory and felt the bare top of his beside table for his glasses. 

Nothing.

'Huh?'

Squinting his eyes, he glared at the polished wood; there was nothing there. Not a trace of his glasses could be found, not even disturbed dust. It was as if… the table hadn't been used in years. His eyes widened and he dropped to the floor, stretching his arm under the bed and feeling for the familiar, cool metal.

Nothing but dust… wait… that couldn't be right.

The house-elves kept the dorms so clean that dust never even had a chance to gather into 'bunnies'. Frowning in confusion, he hoisted himself back upright and glared around the room—

Cobwebs clung to the bedposts, dangled from the ceiling. The curtains and quilts were moth-eaten and rotting away. A carpet of dust covered the once-vibrant rug. Now that rug was faded, barely a hint of color left. It was as if time had moved on without him, and now he was left in the future. A future where Hogwarts was an abandoned castle, not a soul left.

Yet the sight that dragged a scream from his throat was the rusted blood-stains splashed over the walls. The ceiling. Stuck to the bed-sheets and floor.

Everywhere.

Blood… everywhere…

Harry collapsed to his knees, doubled over, and wretched.

"Never thought I'd sit around and cry for your love… 'Till now…" 

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

_To be continued (if you want)…_ Please review! New genre for me, I need feedback, and suggestions. I never really read horror books before, so I'm not sure how to go about it, but I'm giving it my best shot! Criticism welcome, as long as you don't just tell me what's wrong – try and give me a few hints on how to fix it, as well!

I won't post another chapter until I get at least TEN reviews! _~*is holding the fic ransom*~_ Review or the fic dies! _~*meekly*~ _Um, even just a few reviews will do!

Oh, and if you want to know what the song at the beginning sounds like, I have a clip of it in .mp3 format, I can upload it to my website if you're interested. Just because I hate reading song lyrics but not knowing what the song actually sounds like. Otherwise you could always rent the game, Silent Hill 3 (if you have a PS2, that is). 

That's all, folks!


End file.
